


Occupational Hazard

by ProneToRelapse



Series: Jim and Seb Drabbles and Oneshots [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Dysfunctional Relationship, Established Relationship, Humour, M/M, Maybe Sebastian should get an injury lawyer..., he doesn't exactly get compensation from his employer, hey dysfunctional has fun in it!, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sebastian Moran got injured and one time Jim Moriarty did instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occupational Hazard

1.  
  
"Ow... _Ow_. Jim... Jim, that's... _James, that is not how you treat a gunshot wound_ ."  
  
Jim raised his head to glare at Sebastian, fingers pausing over the bleeding hole in the sniper's thigh. "Excuse _you_ ," he said haughtily. "But _I'm_ the one who spent four hours googling how to treat gunshot wounds. I think I know how to do it, thank you very much."  
  
"You're rubbing Germolene on it!"  
  
Jim put down the blue tube of antiseptic cream, looking at his bloodstained hands distastefully. "Well, you don't want an infected leg, now, do you? You wouldn't be able to walk."  
  
"You haven't even taken the bullet out!"  
  
Jim looked down at the wound once more. He leaned on closer to get a better look. "Ah," he said eloquently and smiled slightly sheepishly up at Sebastian, who's face was pale from blood loss. "Right, would you like to go to the hospital, or...?"  
  
Sebastian would have answered. If he wasn't trying to strangle Jim and make him eat the tube of Germolene at the same time.  
  
  
2.  
  
"I told you."  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"I _specifically_ told you."  
  
"Fuck. Off."  
  
"I did, I said "Sebastian, take a spotter with you. You need a spotter."  
  
The ex-Colonel growled from his position in the hospital bed. "I don't need a fucking spotter!" he snapped. "I'm the best fucking sniper you fucking have!"  
  
Jim made a mental note to take one thousand pounds off of Sebastian's pay for every use of the word 'fuck.' Just because.  
  
"You're also the best sniper I fucking fuck," Jim said, amused by his own analogy. "But we still need lubricant to ease our way."  
  
Sebastian spluttered inelegantly. "That... makes no sense."  
  
"Doesn't it? Oh." Jim frowned, disappointed. He leaned forward in the chair beside Sebastian's bed. "Well, hurry up and get better, anyhow. It's boring at home without you. The damn cat keeps pining."  
  
"Ophelia loves me more than you do," Seb muttered moodily.  
  
Jim permitted himself an eye roll. "Of course, tiger."  
  
"Some sympathy would be nice!" Seb complained.  
  
"Why? You're alive--"  
  
"Barely."  
  
"And well--"  
  
"I was _stabbed_ ."  
  
"Relatively unharmed--"  
  
"Twice! In the chest!"  
  
Jim sighed in exasperation. "See, this is why you need a spotter, darling. Then no one can sneak up on you when you're sniping."  
  
Sebastian stared at Jim for a long moment before answering. "James," he said softly, almost growling. "I was _walking_ down the _street_ ."  
  
Jim paused. "...You seem to have a lot of enemies, don't you? ...Seb? Why are you making that face? You look like you're having a stroke. Should I call the nurse? ...What are you doing with that bedpan? ...No, don't you _fucking dare_ \-- "  
  
The bedpan made a satisfying clang when it collided with Jim's head. Sebastian counted that as sufficient compensation.  
  
  
3.  
  
"I honestly don't know how you manage these things," Jim said as he held the door of the flat open for Seb. The sniper being addressed said nothing in response. He just stalked into the flat with a face like thunder, eyes narrowed to moody slits.  
  
Jim followed, still chattering away. "I really don't. Why on earth would you make that jump? Surely it occurred to you that twenty feet is a pretty substantial fall."  
  
"Fuck you, I was in the army," Seb grumbled, flopping onto the sofa.  
  
"Oh, forgive me. I wasn't aware the army gave you the ability to _defy_ gravity."  
  
Seb glared daggers at Jim. "Your bedside manner is _atrocious_ ."

  
"I'm not _at_ your bedside," Jim countered. "And you've only broken a couple of fingers."  
  
"Jim!" Seb snapped, holding up his injured hand. It was set in a wire brace. "If they don't set properly, I won't be able to hold a gun properly! I won't be able to use my rifle, which means I won't be able to be your sniper. I'll be of no use to you."  
  
"Nonsense," Jim said, waving a dismissive hand. "You'll always be of use to me. I need you--" He broke off, and the tips of his ears went red.  
  
"Good lord," Sebastian said, grinning. "James Moriarty _blushing_ . Never thought I'd see _that_ ."  
  
Jim swore viciously in Gaelic and stalked off to their room. "Tell anyone and I'll break your other hand - and your neck!"  
  
Seb's grin only widened.  
  
  
4.  
  
Seb's shoulder had always been his weak point. Having to hold up against the constant recoil of his rifle after every shot had worn it down. Before the surgery, it had twinged something awful, causing him a lot of discomfort. After the surgery... Honestly, it wasn't a lot better.  
  
"What do you mean you can't go to Amsterdam on Monday?" Jim demanded from the sofa, piles of paperwork littering the coffee table, the floor and his lap.  
  
Seb shifted in the armchair, careful not to jolt his healing shoulder too much. "Did I fucking stutter? I mean I can't go. I'm still _recovering_ ."  
  
"You won't have finished by then?"  
  
"Six days after the surgery? Surprisingly, no."  
  
Jim huffed, reaching for a new file. "You take ages to heal. You said when I hired you that your recovery time was above average."  
  
Seb sniffed indignantly. "I meant my sexual recovery time."  
  
"Still not coming across as great."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
Jim's lips twitched. "So if you can't go, who should I send? Denvers?  
  
Seb grimaced. "No, not him. He's a twat."  
  
"Herditch?"  
  
"Also a twat."  
  
"Kerson?"  
  
"Less of a twat, but still a twat."  
  
Jim sighed. "There's no getting away from it. You are my best sniper. I'll have to postpone the job until you're healed."  
  
Sebastian suppressed a wide smile. "Might take a while."  
  
"It's not urgent."  
  
A moment of comfortable silence passed before Sebastian spoke again. "Can you say that I'm the best again? Just for posterity?"  
  
"Not on your life, Moran."  
  
  
5.  
  
Most of the time, being injured while working for Jim is just something that happens. It's unfortunate and inconvenient, but Sebastian deals with it because the pay is fantastic and Jim needs him. Plus, he gets to kill people, which is quite nice.  
  
But then, there are times when getting injured is so worth it. It might not seem like it, but it really is.  
  
"What do you mean he's unconscious?"  
  
Seb groaned weakly, mind fuzzy from a cocktail of drugs and anaesthetic. He could her Jim speaking, voice far away and tone clipped with barely-veiled anger.  
  
"What _happened_ to him? No, don't shake you head at me, either you tell me what happened or you let me in that fucking room. You're a goddamn nurse. _Do your fucking job_ ."  
  
Seb tried to open his eyes but he was honestly too far under. Jesus, these drugs were strong. He continued to drift, half-conscious.  
  
"Let me in _right now_ , or I will end your life this _minute_ ."  
  
Jim was shouting now. His accent made the words sound sharp like knives.  
  
"No relation-- He's my husband, you ignorant bitch!"  
  
That was enough to catch Seb's attention. He managed to peel his eyelids apart just as Jim threw the door open, only to slam it in the terrified nurses face and lock it behind him. He stared at the hospital bed containing his sniper for a long, tense moment.  
  
"I am very angry with you, tiger," Jim said softly. Sebastian watched him blearily. "Very angry."  
  
Jim approached the bed slowly, eyes flickering over every injured inch of Sebastian. "You didn't wait for back up. I had thirteen of my best men ready to come in after you."  
  
"No time," Seb croaked, voice hoarse from disuse.  
  
"Then you _abort the fucking mission_ ," Jim snarled, eyes flashing. "Listen closely because I will only say this once." He leaned forward so that he had a hand either side of Seb's head, their faces inches apart. "No job, no assignment is _ever_ worth more than you are to me. Do you understand? Don't you _dare_ pull another stunt like that again."  
  
"I had to do my job--"  
  
"I nearly lost you!" Jim almost shouted. "My best sniper. My _partner_ ." His voice softened. "My tiger." He shook his head before leaning down to press his forehead to Seb's. "I can't lose you. I don't know what I'd do."  
  
Seb blinked, stunned. The drugs mixed with Jim's stunted confession was overloading his brain. "I... Sorry?"  
  
Jim pulled back. "Yes, you're fucking sorry. You're not going on a job again for another three months. I don't care if you go stir crazy. I'll tie you down if I have to."  
  
Seb quirked his lips in a small smile. "Sounds promising... _husband_ ."  
  
"Fuck off, the nurse was in my way."  
  
"You didn't have to tell her. You could have said brother or cousin."  
  
"Maybe I wanted to."  
  
Seb grinned widely. It hurt his face. "You just like telling people."  
  
Jim finally smiled. "I do like the expressions on their faces, I'll admit." He poked Seb's nose. "Get better this instant."  
  
Seb nodded sleepily. "'m workin' on it."  
  
  
+1.  
  
Sebastian had been prepared for anything. He'd made plans for every eventuality just so that he wouldn't be caught off guard. He was rarely surprised in Jim's employ anymore.  
  
But then Jim shot himself in the head and things got a hell of a lot more complicated.  
  
It was days before Sebastian could move from his hunched position on the couch, silent and grieving and in more pain than he could ever remember being in, and weeks before he could bring himself to leave the flat. Sometimes he cried and sometimes he didn't, though he could never tell when because his eyes were always sore and his cheeks were always wet.  
  
What hurt most was that Jim _knew_  how much he meant to Sebastian, how much the sniper cared for him. God, Sebastian had said "I love you" too many times for Jim not to have gotten the message. And Jim, even with his cold, calculating persona and ruthlessness, had said it back.  
  
Sebastian tried as hard as he could to understand why Jim killed himself. He just couldn't do it. It didn't make any sense.  
  
And then Sebastian was called to the hospital. Richard Brook was in a coma, and he was listed as his next of kin.  
  
It was almost impossible for Sebastian to make himself go. He didn't want to see 'Richard' laid up in a hospital bed with the back of his head blown away. Could he see Jim like that? Could he actually confirm to himself that Jim would never ever come back?  
  
In the end he decided anything was better then this limbo. He needed to see for himself. Maybe then he could move on.  
  
  
  
The hospital seemed much larger and more daunting than it ever had when Seb had been admitted. Being led down through the wards seemed eerily similar to being led to a gallows. Seb clenched his fists at his sides and followed the nurse down to the room 'Richard' was in.  
  
"His cousin is in there with him at the moment," the nurse said. "We had both of you listed as next of kin."  
  
Seb frowned but said nothing. The nurse pushed the door open for him and let him step inside.  
  
A thin, dark-haired man was lying in the bed, pale and gaunt and hooked up to life support. Beside him with his back to Seb, a smaller man was sitting hunched over, head in his hands. Seb stepped slowly forward until he could see the patient's face.  
  
"What..." He stared. This... Wasn't Richard Brook. It couldn't be. It looked nothing like Jim!  
  
"I'm sorry," Seb mumbled. "I think I'm in the wrong room..."  
  
The man sitting beside the bed looked up, leaning back in his chair. "You think so, tiger?"  
  
It took over four months for Jim's broken jaw to heal after Seb punched him.


End file.
